


Brokenness Is A Work of Art

by seaunicorn



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Semi-Public Sex, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 09:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17978528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaunicorn/pseuds/seaunicorn
Summary: Yasha is broken.  She doesn't know how to let herself love again.  She's not sure if she even wants to love again.  And she has no idea what to do about her feelings for Beauregard.





	Brokenness Is A Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my beta serenityxdragon (dailylesbianappreciation on tumblr). This fic was a beast to write and I could not have done it without you.
> 
> Title is from the song Neptune by Sleeping At last, which gives me major Yasha feels. Also a good song to listen to while you read this fic.
> 
> CW: lots of sex, some graphic violence (the fight toward the end), brief suicidal thoughts (on the roof), temporary character deaths (they come back to life), very unhealthy coping mechanisms and strong lack of communication.

Yasha prided herself on self-control.

Despite being in emotional turmoil most of the time, she remained cool and collected, if a bit distant. Despite the anger she carried within herself, over time she had mastered the art of controlling her fury, and even use that internal rage to her advantage at times. Despite the fact that there was a piece of her that had been missing since she fled Xhorhas, since Molly, that she felt so incredibly alone, she was still able to hold herself together each day.

That worked until the day Yasha died.

It was a fight against a beholder gone awry, and as usual, Yasha threw herself into the thick of things to protect her friends. She thought she could take it, until she couldn’t.

At first, it was just darkness.  There was nothing to see or hear and Yasha felt herself slipping away.  When she began to fear that darkness was all she had in store for the rest of eternity, there was a moment where she thought she saw her.  _Zuala_.  Yasha wanted to reach out and take her hand, but she was too far, just out of reach.  Yasha ran for her, reaching out, crying.  And Yasha was ripped away from her love.

Jester hovered over her, tears in her eyes and a relieved smile on her lips.

The battle had ended, but not without a cost.  Yasha had died today, only for a moment, and now a part of her wished that Jester hadn’t bothered to save her.

After a round of much needed therapy drinks, everyone retired to their rooms for the night, tired after an exhausting battle, both emotionally and physically.  Yasha was relieved when her friends began to leave the bar; she quickly grew tired of constantly reassuring everyone that yes, she was fine.

Though she had died, Yasha didn’t feel tired yet.  There was still an adrenaline in her veins that wouldn’t subside.  Be it anxiety from dodging death so narrowly, or relief in actually being alive, there was no way she would be able to sleep anytime soon.  Yasha stayed on her stool at the bar. She had her own room, so she didn’t have to worry about waking anyone once she had gotten herself sufficiently drunk and stumbled up to bed a few hours from now.

However, she noticed that one of her friends also appeared to be sticking around—someone who happened to be on her mind a lot lately.

Beau climbed onto the stool next to Yasha’s, ordered two drinks, and slid one of them over to Yasha just as her mug emptied.

“Thank you,” Yasha muttered.  She didn’t look at Beau.  She wasn’t sure if she could.  Beau hadn’t checked in with her after the battle yet, but Yasha felt her eyes studying her all night.  Beau always seemed to see right through whatever walls Yasha put up. 

Beau nodded. “Rough fight today, huh?”

Yasha hummed in agreement and sipped her ale.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yasha said, the same lie she told herself each day. It was easy enough. Beau, however, didn’t believe her.

“Yasha,” Beau sighed. “You died.”

“But I didn’t stay dead.”

“But you could have.”

“What are you trying to say, Beau?” Yasha snapped. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” She tried not to sound disappointed, but oh, she was.  She could have seen Zuala again.  She could have just slipped away to spend eternity with her wife, instead of pushing herself to make it through another day.  Instead of sitting on an uncomfortable, creaky chair, drinking shitty ale, and trying not to think about how not fine she actually was.  How lonely she’s been in these years since Zuala’s passing.

Yasha felt a hand on her bicep, and almost flinched out of the firm grip.  She wanted to.  But instead, her head turned and she found Beau’s eyes surveying her with concern.

Beau’s eyes could always put Yasha at ease.

“I’m just trying to say... I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Maybe it was the look in Beau’s eyes that made Yasha feel both vulnerable and whole at the same time.  Maybe it was the warm, calloused hand on her skin, the most intimate touch she had felt in a long time. Maybe it was the fact that she had died a few hours ago.

Hell, maybe it was just the ale.

Yasha pushed all thoughts and protests and reason to the back of her mind. She ignored the voice inside her head that called her immoral and unfaithful.  She hastily built up a wall at the back of her mind, keeping all those intruding thoughts away, just for now.  Yasha’s skin burned where Beau’s hand gripped her arm, firm and reassuring, and fuck, she was lonely.

Yasha threw all reason to the wind and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft or gentle or anything that a first kiss should be. It was hard and intense as Yasha latched onto Beau’s lips like a lifeline, as if they were her reason to continue breathing another day. Yasha gripped the back of Beau’s neck and pulled her in closer. As Beau gasped in surprise, Yasha took the opportunity to infiltrate past her lips and slipped her tongue inside, roughly raking against the roof of her mouth, exploring, tasting, taking everything Beau had to offer for herself.

It had been long since Yasha had kissed anyone.  The warmth of Beau’s lips felt so familiar and filled her with longing, yet everything else felt so strange and new.  It was nothing like the soft, sweet, comforting bliss of Zula.  It was rough, and bold, and intoxicating.  It was Beauregard.

Yasha couldn’t get enough.

They ended up in Yasha’s room, Beau pressed against the door as Yasha ravished her neck with bites, soothing it with her tongue briefly before biting down again, leaving her mark.  Beau’s knees shook as she struggled to keep herself upright.  She gripped tightly onto Yasha’s shoulders for support. Her breath was hot in Yasha’s ear as she gasped.

Yasha’s mind flashed with images of Zuala in the same position, gasping in her ear as Yasha slipped a hand under her shirt....

Yasha’s eyes flew open, her movements slowed to a stop.  _Get out of my head_ , she thought.

She felt herself beginning to panic.  Her breathing was erratic.  Her heart rate was through the roof.  She was trembling.  Yasha needed to ground herself.  Zuala wasn’t here.  Not anymore.  It was only Beau, eyes shut tight, a sheen of sweat across her forehead, light marks beginning to appear on her neck.  Yasha stroked her cheek with a finger, and Beau’s eyes fluttered open.

She seemed to notice Yasha’s hesitation, which Beau made up for.  Beau kissed her, biting down hard on Yasha’s bottom lip, and Yasha swore she could taste blood.

Yes, this is what she needed.  No thinking, no guilt, just the electric touch of someone she craved.

Despite being significantly smaller than her, Beau put a hand on Yasha’s chest and pushed her back toward the bed.  Yasha’s knees hit the mattress and she fell back, Beau sliding on top of her, the pressure of her weight comforting against her body, like something she had been missing.

Beau lavished her neck with her tongue and slipped a leg between hers. A soft groan slipped out of Yasha’s lips at the much-needed contact, and her hips involuntarily bucked upward.

Beau raised her head and reached down to brush away some of the hair that had fallen out of the braids and into Yasha’s face, covering her eyes.

“Is this okay?” Beau asked.  Her voice was surprisingly gentle, and full of concern.

Soft wasn’t what Yasha needed right now.  Instead of answering, Yasha ran her hands up Beau’s abs, scratching lightly as she went, tracing a trail from her belly button, up past her ribs, until Yasha slipped a hand under her top.

Her fingers swiped roughly against Beau’s hard nipple, and Beau groaned into the touch.

Their lips connected again.  Teeth clashed, and Yasha tasted every inch of Beau’s mouth that she could reach.

At the same time, their legs intertwined, and their hips jerked in an uneven rhythm. They each sought out that wonderful, blissful pressure as they began to grind against each other, rough and messy. Their lips were bruised and swollen, thoroughly ravished by nibbling teeth and wandering tongues.  Yasha’s hips rose and fell like the tide, and Beau’s like a ship trying to keep up with the wild sea.

 _Touch me,_ Yasha thought, but she didn’t dare speak the words aloud, for fear of her own voice shattering the wall she had built up in her mind.  She needed this to last.

Instead, she grabbed Beau’s hand that was tangled in her hair and pushed it down, past the fabric of her pants and into the wet heat beneath.

Yasha gasped.  Oh, she had forgotten what it was like to have fingers other than her own between her legs.  She’d forgotten quite how wet she could get from the heated touch of another woman.

Beau’s hand stilled for a moment, and if she didn’t continue Yasha thought she might combust.  Yasha was afraid she would stop, withdraw her hand, and leave.  But after a moment, Beau seemed to find her bearings.  She dragged her fingers up, then circled Yasha’s clit.  Yasha’s breath turned into a strangled whine.

Beau’s touch was slow and tentative, but that’s not what Yasha needed.  Yasha moved her hips against Beau’s fingers, hoping to egg her on.

It worked.  Unable to resist, Beau rubbed Yasha’s clit faster, enthralled by the heavy breaths that fell from her lips with each stroke. Yasha felt Beau’s fingers wander lower, almost slipping inside, but she thrust out of the way and continued to grind against Beau’s hand.  Yasha wasn’t sure she could handle something so intimate without breaking down.  Right now, she just needed release.

Yasha’s pants were tight, and there was only so much leverage Beau could get at this angle. With her other hand, she pulled Yasha’s pants down her legs, just a little.  The fabric bunched up around Yasha’s knees and Yasha’s cheeks flushed.  She felt... exposed, vulnerable, but at this point she was too close to care.  Yasha felt helpless beneath Beau’s touch, and every repressed thought was the furthest thing from her mind right now.  Beau held herself over Yasha with an impressive strength, and Yasha gripped her bicep, clinging on for dear life.

Beau’s lips left hers, and Yasha whined in disappointment, until she felt a warm tongue swipe up the column of her neck again.  Yasha’s thrusts grew harder as the burn grew stronger, brighter.  Oh, she was so close.  Beau’s teeth scraped against her earlobe, and Yasha gasped.

Her eyes were shut tight, and she saw the face of her love in the darkness.  _Oh, Zuala!_

Yasha bit back her cry as her body twitched, and she clawed at Beau’s shoulders as all the built-up tension and stress came tumbling down in a wave of relief.

It had been so long since anyone’s fingers but her own had brought her to orgasm.  Yasha struggled to catch her breath.  As she opened her eyes, she felt the tears spilling already.  _Oh, Zuala, what would you think of me now?_

“Yasha?” Beau caught sight of the tears on her cheeks and raised a hand to wipe them away. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yasha muttered.  She rolled out from underneath Beau, and pulled up her pants, curling up on her side, facing away from Beau.  Her eyes were clenched shut as she forced away the tears.  _You’re despicable.  You’re wrong.  You shouldn’t have fucking done that._

The voice in Yasha’s head was back; the wall she built up had come tumbling down with her release.  There was no escaping the guilt anymore.

The bed creaked as Beau sat up. “Um, do you want me to leave?”

_Stupid. Fuck-up. Disgusting. Wrong._

“No.”

Beau laid back down, settling on the other side.  Yasha could feel waves of anxiety and uncertainty coming from Beauregard.  She didn’t reach out to Yasha, but she stayed.

Yasha wondered why she stayed.

It felt like hours later that Beau’s breathing finally evened out, a sure sign that she had fallen asleep.  As quiet as she could, Yasha slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the floor.  As Yasha opened the door, she took one last look back into the room.  The moonlight shone down onto Beau’s sleeping form; her brow was furrowed, as though her rest was not a peaceful one.  Yasha frowned, but she turned and closed the door silently behind her.

Instead of joining another room, Yasha went outside the inn and scaled the wall to get up to the roof.  It was a cloudy night; the wind sent a chill down her spine.  Yasha walked across the narrow center of the roof toward the edge. She peered over.

It was only about fifty feet to the ground—not high enough to do any real damage if she fell off.  She almost wished it would it were higher.  She glanced around for a taller building, but it was a small town they were stopped in tonight.  This was the highest she could go.

Yasha sprouted her skeletal wings and let them droop behind her.  If only she could fly higher and let herself fall.

The dark clouds quickly grew thick in the sky and thunder boomed over her head.  As fast as Yasha could blink, rain began to pour.  Within seconds, she was drenched.

Yasha balanced on one foot at the edge of the roof, leaning over just a little.  Was this a lack of fear she felt, or a death wish?  A desire to tempt fate and be reunited with her dead wife?  Even if they were reunited, would Zuala ever forgive her?

Yasha sighed and set her foot down, standing on both feet once again.  As she inched forward to glance over the edge, a bolt of lightning shot from the sky and struck the roof of the inn, throwing Yasha away from the edge and off her feet.

Of course, that was another problem Yasha faced.  The Storm Lord wouldn’t release his hold on her so easily.

Usually, Yasha trusted her god. He did save her life, after all. But now, she was tired of the cryptic messages, the blind faith, and the unknown destiny he seemed to have planned for her.

Yasha picked herself up and shouted into the storm, “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

Another flash of lightning lit up the night, but as soon as it dimmed, the rain was gone. Yasha glanced up at the sky, but there wasn’t a cloud in sight. She felt her skin, her hair, her clothes— bone dry.

Yasha sat on the roof and cried.

 

 

 

After the first time, Yasha told herself it would be the last.

It wasn’t.

Yasha didn’t make her way off the roof until well into the morning, when her friends had begun to wonder if she had disappeared again.  She didn’t look at Beau once, even when she could feel blue eyes boring into the back of her skull.

She couldn’t face Beau, or explain to her why she acted the way she did, and she was still riddled with guilt and disgust at her complete betrayal of Zuala.  And Yasha had never been good with words, or confrontation, so her best solution was to avoid Beau entirely.

This worked for about a week.

It had been long months of travel, so when they arrived back in Zadash, everyone was excited to be back in the city.  Fjord and Nott wanted to see what new artifacts Pumat had for sale while Caduceus wanted to see Pumat himself.  Caleb was looking forward to returning to the bookstore.  Beau wanted to catch up with a friend from the Cobalt Reserve.  And Jester loved the prospect of any kind of shopping.  However, the Gentleman had been awaiting their arrival, and he had other plans for them.

There was a ball in the Tri-Spire, and the Gentleman needed information from one of the attendees.  Apparently, some trade routes were being rerouted because of the war, and the Gentleman wanted to know the new locations, for his own personal reasons.  They had to find a high ranking general, a half-elf named Bron, and get the information out of him, one way or another.

As soon as the Gentleman had said the word “ball”, Jester could hardly contain her excitement.  She loved an excuse to dress up, and even more, she loved an excuse to get her friends dressed up.  In fact, instead of making an actual plan for the night, the day before was instead spent as a shopping spree and spa day.

Yasha had hoped to sit out this mission, but Jester would not let her, and even insisted on helping her get ready.  At the bathhouse, Jester made sure her hair was taken out of the braids to be washed and brushed, so instead of a matted mess, Yasha’s soft curls fell down her back.  The black dress her friend picked out felt alien to the usual comfortable attire that she could actually fight in.

She kept her black fur shawl, but Jester made sure to get it washed first.

When Yasha stepped out of her room at the Pillow Trove, she realized she was the last person to finish getting ready.

“Ta-da!” Jester waved to the others and gestured to Yasha excitedly.

Beau leaned against the wall, head down, donning a dark blue suit.  Jester couldn’t convince her to put on a dress, but she didn’t have to.  Beau looked amazing.  She lifted her head, and as she saw Yasha, her eyes went wide and her cheeks turned red.

Yasha felt suddenly self-conscious.  She had spent the week avoiding Beau’s attention and now it was focused on her once again.

“Er—we should go,” Yasha muttered.  She kept her eyes looking straight ahead down the hall and marched toward the stairs.  “We’re going to be late.”

The walk to the manor was quick.  It was a warm, summer night, and it was easy enough to follow the sounds of the party.  They showed their invitations that Jester had forged for them, and went inside.

Without it being tied up, Yasha’s hair kept falling into her eyes, blocking her vision.  She huffed and blew it out of the way for the fifth time since they left the inn.  She couldn’t wait for this job to be over.

The band onstage played a jovial tune while partygoers drank and danced and enjoyed their time.  Yasha stood in the corner with Caleb, watching as Jester danced with Fjord, and Caduceus made his way along the food table, grabbing one of everything (everything vegetarian, of course), and piling it onto a plate.

Nott and Beau were following behind, after doing some stealthy reconnaissance outside the estate.  They would be arriving any minute….

As if on cue, the crowd parted, the music faded to the background, and maybe Yasha was imagining things, but a light seemed to fall directly on Beauregard as she entered.  Sometimes Yasha forgot that Beau was more familiar with this environment than the rest of the Mighty Nein.  Being raised by two winemakers and with her monk training, she knew how to handle herself in high society, even if she didn’t enjoy it.

Still sporting the colors of the Cobalt Soul (and likely ready to speak with anyone who might notice her under the persona of Tracy), Beau looked to be in her element.  Even if she was uncomfortable, she didn’t show it.  Yasha was jealous of her ability to adapt to the environment.  Unlike Beau, she felt herself sticking out like a sore thumb.  She shuffled her feet awkwardly to move out of the way whenever someone came near, and didn’t talk to a single soul, not even Caleb.

But the way Beau strutted through the crowd and people seemed to part around her was breathtaking.

Yasha despised herself for it, but she couldn’t help the way her heart sped up whenever Beau was around.  As she made her way through the party, Yasha couldn’t help but notice the way the dark blue of her suit brought out the light blue of her eyes.  Yasha couldn’t help the way her eyes dragged down Beau’s fit form, appreciating every curve, wishing she could see everything that lay underneath the suit.

Until finally, Beau was in front of her, and as though the band onstage had their own plans for Yasha’s destiny, the song changed and the music slowed.  Yasha downed the rest of her ale at the bottom of her glass and set it aside.

Yasha knew what was about to happen.  Beau would glare at her and walk past.  Or, even worse, Beau wouldn’t even acknowledge her.  Yasha had been terrible to her this week and whatever Beau did, she knew she deserved.

On the contrary, when Beau reached Yasha’s side, she held out a hand and nodded her head toward the dance floor.  And because Yasha has always been weak, she took it.

Yasha was surprised when Beau held her close, her face almost buried in Yasha’s chest, arms linked around her back.  Yasha returned the embrace, held her close, and they began to sway to the melodious plucking of the lute.

“You look wonderful,” Yasha muttered, resisting the temptation to run her fingers through Beau’s hair.  Though it was usually tied up in a tight bun, it was now in a loose ponytail that looked soft and enticing.

“Oh, so we’re talking now?”  Beau tried to sound annoyed, but it came out more as relief.

Yasha frowned.  She had left Beau in her bed, ignored her all week, and not done a thing to make up for it.  Yasha felt terrible.  She felt terrible about sleeping with Beau.  She felt terrible about leaving her after.  She felt terrible about ignoring her.  But she also felt terrible about dancing with Beau now.  She couldn’t do this.  She was _married_ , and not to Beauregard.

 _Zuala’s dead_ , said the voice inside Yasha’s head.  _What’s the harm?_

Yasha clenched her eyes shut and shook her head, hoping the intruding voice would fall out of her ear and leave her alone.  _I don’t want to hurt anyone_.

“I’m sorry,” Yasha whispered, and took a step away.

At least, she tried to take a step away, but Beau’s tight grip caught her wrist and held her in place.  Yasha held her breath as Beau’s eyes took her in.  Beau studied her, teeth caught in her lip, and sighed.  “You look nice too,” Beau said.

Yasha’s cheeks burned.  She didn’t exactly feel comfortable in a dress, but the way Beau looked at her more than made up for it.

“I know I’ve been—”

“An ass?”

“I was going to say avoiding you.”

“Oh.  Yeah, that too.”

Despite herself, Yasha chuckled.  Beau seemed to know exactly what to say to put her at ease.  She felt herself relax in Beau’s arms and leaned back a little to take a good look at her face.

Beau’s eyes were wide and hopeful, and so, so blue.  Yasha knew she would drown in them if she looked too long.

Yasha knew she shouldn’t.  She knew she had betrayed Zuala and the promise they made to each other… but it had already happened.  There was no taking back her mistake now.  And despite Yasha’s best efforts to avoid confrontation in the last week, to get her mind off of what she had done, try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about Beauregard.

The damage had already been done, and Beau looked absolutely ravishing in her suit.  _Fuck it_ , Yasha thought.  She grabbed Beau’s hand and dragged her off the dance floor, out of the crowded room, away from the party.

They made their way to a nearby powder room, occupied by an elf fixing their makeup in the mirror.  Beau blinked in confusion, clearly wondering why Yasha had brought her here.

“What is it?” Beau asked.

Yasha said nothing, but her eyes pierced into the back of the elf’s skull until they left.  As they exited, Yasha locked the door the moment they were alone, then turned around and tackled Beau with a fierce kiss.

Beau stumbled backward against the counter, caught by surprise.  She kissed back for a moment, letting Yasha chase the taste that she craved so much.  Suddenly, Beau’s lips were gone as she turned her head away, breaking the kiss.  Yasha groaned in frustration, and her forehead fell to rest on Beau’s shoulder.

“Yasha,” Beau started, “you can’t just ignore me for a week, and then kiss me out of nowhere and expect me to forget about it.”

Yasha kept her eyes firmly shut for a moment.  She could feel Beau’s heartbeat racing in her chest.  “I know,” Yasha sighed.  She lifted her head and dragged her eyes up, raking over Beau’s swollen lips, meeting her dark eyes.  She ran her fingers down Beau’s arm, simply craving the touch, the feel of her skin.  Beau seemed to melt at the gesture, but she offered no words of encouragement.

Yasha slowly withdrew her hand and began to step back, but before she could, Beau caught her, and for the second time tonight, held Yasha there, keeping her close.

“We’ll talk about it this time?” Beau asked.

Yasha nodded.  “I promise.”

She was lying.

But it was what Beau needed to hear.

Beau stood on her toes and surged forward to reconnect their lips.  Yasha’s arms winded around her; she grabbed Beau by the hips and lifted her onto the counter.  She slid the suspenders off Beau’s shoulders, shoving her pants down and slipping her hand inside.  Beau kicked the offending fabric away, freeing her legs and wrapping them around Yasha’s hips, pulling her closer.

The music and ambient chatter from the party conveniently drowned out the sounds of breathy moans in the powder room as Yasha fell to her knees between Beau’s legs.  Beau’s fingers tangled in her dark hair, as Yasha’s tongue traced the inside of Beau’s thighs, trailing higher, building up, up, until legs clamped around her head, hands tugged at her hair, and Zuala was the last thing on her mind with Beau’s cry echoing in her ears.

As Yasha stood up after, the taste of Beau still on her lips, she caught sight of herself in the mirror: dark make-up (that Jester had so meticulously applied) smudged away, even more messy than usual, hair sticking up and tangled where Beau gripped and tugged at her locks as she came.

Beau pulled her in and held her close, resting her head against Yasha’s chest.  Her eyes were closed as she struggled to catch her breath.  Yasha felt pride swell inside her chest.  She did this.  She took Beau’s breath away.

And then, Yasha frowned.  Another glance in the mirror and she realized she looked exactly how she felt—disgusting.  How could she do this _again_?

Beau seemed so content, but as soon as she wanted to talk, it would be ruined.  Yasha had no intention of talking to Beauregard about her feelings.  It was almost a relief when there was an urgent knock at the door.

Yasha stepped back and quickly wiped away the dark smudges around her eyes, and did her best to flatten her messy hair.  “Uhh, just a second.”

Beau hopped off the counter and hastily pulled her trousers back up, clipping the suspenders back into place.  They gave each other a once-over, just to make sure they were presentable.  Beau used her thumb to wipe a smudge of red lipstick from Yasha’s mouth, nodded, and opened the door.

Caduceus leaned against the doorframe patiently.  With one look, he knew exactly what had just happened.

“I see you two have a good excuse for delaying our exit.  We’ve been looking for you.”

“We were—uhh—there was—” Beau stuttered, searching for an explanation.

“The door was stuck,” Yasha interjected.

Beau elbowed her in the side.  Yasha really was a terrible liar.

Caduceus stared them both down for a moment, and Yasha couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or merely unamused.  “Fjord talked to the captain, our job is done.  Let’s get out of here,” he said, then spun around and walked away.

Beau and Yasha waited a moment before following, giving some distance between them and Caduceus.  He would probably still hear them regardless.

“So…” Beau muttered, “I guess Cad knows.”

Yasha pursed her lips.  “Yes.”

“Should we… just tell the others?”

“No!” Yasha exclaimed.  “I mean—I just—”  Beau looked away and broke her eye contact with Yasha, refusing to look back.  Yasha feared she might be hiding her hurt feelings.  She knew what she had to do, she might as well do it now, while she had the chance.  While she didn’t have to look into Beau’s eyes as she drove the knife even deeper.

“This can’t happen again, Beau,” Yasha said, closing her eyes, clenching her fists tight.

Silence.  They both stopped walking somewhere along the way.  Yasha opened her eyes and watched as Beau continued to avoid her gaze.  The silence continued for an uncomfortably long time and Yasha held her breath.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Beau stormed off ahead of Yasha, arms folded across her chest.

 _Great_.

 

 

This time, it wasn’t just Yasha avoiding Beau.  Now, Beau reciprocated that avoidance.

They didn’t speak when they didn’t have to, they usually took up opposite ends of marching order, and even refused to talk _about_ each other.

Everyone could tell something was off, but no one wanted to bring it up to either of them.  Well, Nott may have tried to question Yasha about it once, but Yasha only snarled at her, which shut her up for the rest of the day.  And Fjord tried to ask Beau what was wrong, but when he persisted a bit too much, all he got was a punch to the face and a shiny new bruise to last the week.

But Yasha had been kidding herself when she said it couldn’t happen again.

It’s not that she didn’t want to be with Beau.  She did.  Oh, she did.  And that’s why she couldn’t.  She tries to think, what would Zuala say?  It had been a long time since she had been killed, and Yasha still felt the blood on her hands.  If they hadn’t been together, or if they had just left sooner, she would still be here.  And Yasha didn’t have to run, like a coward.

It had been so long, and Yasha wanted to be okay again.  She still loved Zuala, she always would, but Yasha wanted something to make her happy again.  Maybe she had found that in Beau, but would Zuala want her to be happy or faithful?  What use is living in the past if it destroys your chance at a future?  And what is the meaning of a vow if it’s only going to be broken?

Beau was…beautiful.  And she always knew how to put Yasha at ease.  But she couldn’t think about Beau like that, or—or gods forbid _talk_ to her.

But if Yasha just wanted to make her come… was there anything wrong with that?

Whenever they found a moment alone, away from the others, whenever it was just the two of them, Yasha and Beau couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

They’re in Hupperdook when Beau gets into another bar fight because a Dwarven man tries hitting on Yasha.  Beau only jumped between them to intimidate him, out of jealousy?  The need for a brawl?  He’s the one who throws the first punch, but Beau knocks him out in seconds without even breaking a sweat.

Yasha drags her away from their friends and fucks her in the alley behind the tavern.

When the group inevitably forces them to take watch together in a desperate attempt to get them to sort out whatever mess they had gotten themselves into, Yasha finds herself in the grass, back against a tree, holding Beau’s head between her legs.

Honestly, they’re lucky the group was never ambushed because neither of them paid any attention to their surroundings.  And whenever they woke up the next morning, Beau and Yasha were in even worse moods than usual.

It’s really the lack of communication that does them in, in the end.  Yasha’s detachment from wanting to actually face any of the emotions she felt, for Beau, for Zuala, only fueled Beau’s stubborn and independent nature.

And Beau was just stupidly stubborn enough to think she could tank against a fucking dragon.

They were just trying to help out a small town that was being tormented by a young red dragon trying to make his mark on the world.  The townsfolk could hardly afford to keep up with all the gold he wanted in offerings, and a few farms on the outskirts had already been burned down, along with a lot of the crops and livestock.

There was no money or glory in it for them, but the Mighty Nein took pride in fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.  Along with a few brave volunteers, they tracked down the dragon to where he had made his home, a cave deep in the northern mountains.  A waterfall poured down the cliff, concealing the entrance from passersby, but they knew they were in the right place.

A plan involving a flooded cave and a paralyzed dragon went horribly awry when the dragon was barely clinging onto life and broke out of Fjord’s paralysis spell just in time to escape.  Beau decided to climb onto his back before he flew out of reach.

The team reacted instinctively.  Jester polymorphed Fjord into a giant eagle and Yasha leapt onto his back.  They followed the dragon as he soared into the air, carrying Beauregard with him.

The dragon didn’t realize there was a person on his back until she had climbed to his head and poked him in each eye with her staff.  Annoyed, he unleashed a series of attacks on Beau, scratching at his own head with both front claws.

Beau easily dodged the first claw, but the second one raked across her chest.  Yasha and Fjord were flying parallel to the dragon now, and she could see the blood pour from the wounds in her chest as Beau slumped to her knees and begin to slide down the back of the neck.

What Yasha didn’t expect was the tail.

The dragon’s barbed, rough tail came swinging from behind, smacking Beau hard, sending her unconscious body flying off the side of the dragon and falling, falling, hundreds of feet back toward the ground.

“BEAU!” Yasha screamed.

Usually other barbarians in her tribe would talk about seeing red with fury in the heat of battle.  Yasha never saw red.  When Yasha raged, she had tunnel vision.  Everything around blurred, except for the dragon, smugly laughing as he thought he was about to escape, but not if Yasha had any say in the matter.

Fjord eased up to the dragon’s side, close enough so Yasha could swing her sword.  She drove the Magician’s Judge into the dragon, carving a large gash in his hide as they flew along it’s the length of his body toward the head.  And with a final flourish, as she removed her sword, she sliced a gash into the neck.

The blood pouring from the wound steamed with immense heat and seared her skin, singeing a few feathers off of eagle-Fjord.  The dragon sputtered for a moment, but his eyes began to close and his wings began to slow, unable to hold himself up anymore.

With that taken care of, for now at least, Yasha’s tunnel vision redirected.  “Dive!” she called out, hoping eagle-Fjord would understand her.  “Now!”

Fjord tucked in his eagle wings and fell into a nosedive, following Beau’s limp figure plummeting to the ground.  Yasha held on tightly to the feathers.  They were gaining, but still too far to the side.

Eighty feet, seventy feet, sixty feet.  Beau was falling so fast.  They couldn’t keep pace _and_ get close enough to catch her.  Yasha wouldn’t be able to save her.  Unless…  She could fall fifty feet and live.

Yasha released her grip on the eagle and leapt off its back, pushing herself in Beau’s direction, diving, reaching out for her.

Finally, Yasha’s arms closed around Beau’s form.  She held her close, and quickly sprouted her wings from her back to curl around them both and help absorb the impact.

It was just in time, too.  Yasha fell, crushing into dirt and rocks.  The impact was hard on her side as she braced and tumbled, holding Beau tightly to her chest, trying to not let anything happen to her.

Yasha felt her vision go dark, but before she could pass out, there was a hand on her shoulder.  Jester stood over her, keeping her conscious.

“Thank you,” Yasha said, but she didn’t take her eyes off of Beau.  She looked battered, bruised, burned.  But Yasha could help.  She pulled Beau’s limp body into her lap.  “I’ve got you,” Yasha muttered, and placed her hands on Beau’s cheeks.

Yasha’s hands glowed as her celestial healing energy seeped into Beau… and nothing happened.  “No.”  She tried again, but still nothing.  “No, no, no, she can’t—no!”

There was a soft thud when the dragon’s body finally hit the ground, but Yasha didn’t feel it.  As her rage ended, she couldn’t feel anything.  She stared at Beau’s lifeless body in her lap.  Her vision blurred and for a moment, it was Zuala she saw instead.  The rest of her friends slowly began to approach.

Yasha couldn’t breathe.

Jester’s eyes were grim, and she seemed to be holding back tears.  “Um, Yasha?”  Yasha closed her eyes.  She didn’t want to hear what Jester was too scared to say.

“Please tell me she’s not—tell me that she’s okay,” Yasha said.  “Please.”

Caduceus kneeled down next to them and placed a strong, comforting hand on her shoulder.  “Let’s take a look at her, shall we?”  How Caduceus managed to remain calm when Yasha felt as though her entire world was about to shatter again, she would never know.

Yasha removed her hands from Beau’s face, and instead clutched one of her limp hands in her own, trying to keep it warm, as if that would bring her back to life.  Caduceus grabbed two fine diamonds out of his pouch and placed one over each of Beau’s eyes.  He muttered a few words under his breath as he held his hand over her face.  A soft glow emitted from his fingertips, and the diamonds vanished.

Five seconds passed.  Ten seconds.

Yasha closed her eyes and clutched her symbol of the Storm Lord.  “Please,” she whispered, a quick prayer under breath, “don’t let this happen to me.  Not again.”

Twenty seconds.  Yasha held her breath.

And when she had almost given up hope, she felt a twitch of Beau’s fingers in her hand.

“Euh.”  Something between a gasp and a groan fell from Beau’s lips.  Her eyes fluttered open, the lively bright blue appeared a bit more dull than usual.  “Did we win?”

Yasha finally let herself cry.  Her eyes welled up with tears, and she nodded.  “Yes,” she said.  “Yes, we did.”

Beau nodded weakly.  “Cool,” she muttered, and her eyes drifted closed once again as she passed out from exhaustion.  Yasha let out a relieved sob.

“We should get back to town,” Fjord said.  “Get her into a proper bed.  Rest up.”

Caduceus stood and offered Yasha a hand to help her up, but she ignored it.  Instead, Yasha drew Beau into her arms and delicately lifted her from the ground.  She stood, and without waiting for the others to follow, marched down the path that headed back to town.

Yasha almost lost the only one to ever make her as happy as Zuala did, and she never even told Beau how much she cared.

It was a couple hours trek from the cave until they returned to town.  Though the people were full of celebration, the Mighty Nein returned to the inn and rented an additional room for the night.  Beau needed a bed.

As Yasha gently set Beau down on the mattress, she startled awake.

“Ugh, what happened?”  Beau tried to push herself upright, but was too weak.

“How do you feel?” Caduceus asked.

Beau mused for a moment, licked her dry lips, then grumbled, “Like death.”

“Well that is pretty accurate,” Jester said with a shrug.

Beau blinked.  “What—"

Caleb elbowed Jester in the side.  “How about we let the girl get some rest, ja?”

The group muttered their agreement, and as Beau yawned, sleep threatening to take her once again, they began to make their way out of the room.

“Glad to see you alive, Beauregard,” Caleb muttered, leaning close to her and gripping her arm in affection.

“Yeah, me too,” Beau chuckled.  She squeezed his hand before he let go and headed out of the room.

Yasha felt her feet firmly planted on the ground.  She was unable to move, frozen in place.  She couldn’t leave Beau now, not when she had lost her just a few hours ago.

“Are you coming, Yasha?” Nott asked, trailing behind the others.

Yasha took a moment.  She tried to leave, she really did, but her limbs were stiff from the shock and her body refused to let her leave Beau alone.  Yasha shook her head.  “I will stay here.  Watch over her.”

Nott nodded and skipped away, closing the door behind her.

“I don’t need you to watch over me,” Beau huffed.

“You are weak,” Yasha frowned.  “You just died.”  Beau didn’t respond, so Yasha pulled a chair closer and sat down next to the bed.  “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Whatever.”

Beau turned on her side and closed her eyes.  Yasha could feel the confused, mixed emotions radiating from her, but they soon dissipated as Beau dozed off and began snoring softly.

Yasha yawned, struggling to keep her eyes open.  It had been quite a long day.  It wouldn’t hurt to rest her eyes, just for a bit.  Now that Beau was safe.  She would be here if anything happened, but she was so tired…

Slowly, Yasha’s eyes drooped and fell shut as she drifted into a light slumber.

Yasha was tired, and her sleep was peaceful, dreamless.  Until she saw her.

Zuala.  Long, flowing hair, and an angelic glow framing her from behind.

“ _My love_ ,” Yasha gasped.

Zuala, silent, leaned in and kissed her, gentle and familiar.  It was everything she needed, and yet, somehow, it felt like a goodbye.  Yasha wrapped her arms around her wife and held her tight, her eyes burned with tears yet to fall.  It was a moment of bliss before Zuala pulled away from her embrace.

“ _Zuala?”_

“ _I love you, Yasha_ ,” Zuala said, “ _And I will see you again.  One day._ ”

“ _And now?_ ” Yasha asked.  “ _What am I to do without you?”_

She held Zuala’s face and pressed their foreheads together.  Her lip trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks.  Zuala was the only one she had ever let in to see this emotional side of herself, or maybe she just brought it out.

“ _I think you know,_ ” Zuala said, raising a hand to wipe Yasha’s tears, “ _Live your life.  Do not hold yourself back on my behalf._ ”

Zuala stepped back and held Yasha’s hands in her own.

“ _Don’t be afraid,_ ” she muttered.  Zuala pressed a kiss to her fingertips, then backed away.

“ _Goodbye, my love,_ ” Yasha said as she watched her wife fade into the distance.  “ _I will see you again_.”

The sound of shuffling and a crash was what woke Yasha.  She sprang to her feet and drew her sword, but all she found was Beau on the ground and a tin cup of water that had clattered and spilled across the floor.

Yasha sheathed her weapon and rushed over to help Beau.  “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Beau dismissed.  “I was just trying to get some water.”

“Well you should’ve woken me,” Yasha mumbled.  She helped Beau back into bed carefully, then moved to clean up the spilled water.  When Yasha finished, she rummaged through her rucksack until she found her own waterskin and pulled it out.  “Here,” she said, offering it to Beau.

Beau thanked her and sipped at the water.  As she drank, Yasha gazed at Beau; she looked a bit pale and weak, but there was more life in her now than there was before.  There was more color in her cheeks, more life to her scowl.  Her eyes were beginning to regain their usual blue glow that Yasha knew she would be drowning in soon enough.

“How do you feel?”

“A little better.”  Beau handed the water back to her.  “Uh, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”  She paused and pursed her lips, considering her next words.  “Thanks for staying,” she said, after a moment.

Yasha nodded.  She had so much she wanted to say, but she settled for a single word.  “Always.”

Beau scooted to the side and patted the spot next to her on the mattress.  How could Yasha say no?  She sat next to Beau and immediately wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close for an embrace.

Yasha held her there for a moment, eyes shut tight, before she realized she was crying.  Beau seemed to realize it at the same moment as a sob fell from Yasha’s lips.

“Hey,” Beau said, her voice more gentle than Yasha had ever heard before.  “What’s wrong?”  Beau’s fingers threaded into Yasha’s hair, nails gently scratching at her scalp.

Yasha took a deep breath.  _You’re here_ , she told herself.  _She’s here._   With each inhale, Beau’s chest rose as her lungs expanded.  Her skin was warm to the touch.  There was a strong heartbeat inside her chest.  She was alive.

“I thought you were gone,” Yasha whispered.

Beau slowly pulled away, and while Yasha kept her head down, Beau’s hand was quickly under her chin, tilting her head up to meet her eyes.

“I’m still here,” Beau said.  Her hand lingered on Yasha’s face, tracing her knuckles across a gash on her cheek, brushing her thumb against Yasha’s lips.  The touch was electrifying, as though Beau’s mere existence gave Yasha something to live for.

Yasha took a slow, grounding breath.  They needed to have this conversation.  At the very least, Beau needed to know everything.

“I lost someone else,” Yasha muttered, averting her eyes.  “Before.”

Beau frowned.  “In Xhorhas?”

Yasha nodded.  “She was my wife.”

Beau’s fingers stopped stroking her cheek.  “Oh.”

“We were in love, but in my tribe, we were not allowed to marry for love,” Yasha said.  “And when they found out that we were married, they killed her and I ran.”

She heard Beau’s soft gasp.  “Yasha, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know.”

Yasha shook her head.  “I didn’t tell you,” she sighed.  “But that’s why I’ve been, well, an ass, as you put it.  Part of me still feels guilty—for getting her killed.  For running away.”  Yasha hesitated and glanced back up to meet Beau’s eyes again.  “For falling for someone else.”

Yasha pulled Beau’s hand to her mouth and brushed her lips against bruised knuckles, kissing them softly.  Beau sighed, and it was the most heavenly sound Yasha had ever heard.

“Why tell me this now?” Beau asked.

Yasha frowned, her eyes drifting to her lap as she thought for a moment.  “I will always have Zuala in my heart, but I can’t live my life in the past.  I think I’m finally ready to… move forward.  I almost lost you before we even got a chance.  A _real_ chance.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.  But if you die again, I just—I need you to know that I—I do care.  And if you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Beau was alive, and here, and finally Yasha felt herself falling in love when she never thought she would feel this way again.  She could waste no more time just sitting here.  Instead, she dropped Beau’s hand and leaned in.  She grasped Beau’s cheeks and gently drew her in close.  Their noses brushed.  Their lips parted.  And after a moment’s hesitation, Yasha captured Beau’s lips in a soft, tentative kiss.  And then another.  And another.  She was so delicate, so scared to hurt Beau after she had died today.  She treated Beau as if she were made of glass and could shatter at any moment.

But soon, Yasha realized, Beau was kissing her back.  And what started as reassuring and tender, soon grew to desperation.  Yasha wanted to cling to Beauregard, wanted reassurance that she was there, beneath the hands that traced patterns into her soft skin.  Beau was there in the lips that kissed her as Yasha mapped out her mouth and tongue, committing every feature to a memory that she never wanted to fade.

Yasha kissed Beau’s eyes, affectionately grazing her lips against the dark purple bruises that had begun to form around them.  Yasha kissed her temple, brushing her nose against a red stain where the dried blood had been wiped away.

Yasha kissed her cheeks, and down her neck, listening as Beau gasped.  The oxygen entering and exiting her lungs as a breath of life.  The reassurance was music to her ears.  Yasha’s tongue darted out to taste skin, and she licked the point where her pulse throbbed in her neck, hoping to hear a symphony.

As Yasha’s hands palmed at the skin of her stomach, slowly trailing higher, Yasha hesitated a moment, and looked to Beau for permission.  Beau, eyes half closed, nodded weakly.

Yasha pushed the blue vest down her arms and tossed the garment aside.  She unwrapped Beau’s chest to expose her breasts, where more bruises were scattered like constellations all across her body, and red gashes, still healing from the dragon’s claws that had scraped into her.

Yasha kissed each one of them.  Her lips were soothing, and her tongue was light.  She didn’t need to leave any marks of her own.  She was already looking at a masterpiece.  Beau’s body was a temple and Yasha worshipped each and every corner, and each breathy gasp or contented sigh was an answer to her prayers.

Yasha’s mouth made its way to the peak of one breast while her hand palmed the other; she dragged her tongue across Beau’s nipple.  Beau hissed at the sensation and clutched at the blanket beneath them in her fists.  Yasha cupped the breast and took it into her mouth.  She sucked at it, swirling her tongue around the hard peak, and Beau’s strangled whine as she did so was Yasha’s new favorite song.

Yasha continued her journey down Beau’s body.  She kissed each bruise that littered her stomach, traced the taut muscles of Beau’s abdomen with her tongue, and dipped into her navel.

Beau squirmed under her touch.  “That tickles,” she giggled.

Yasha’s lips curled into a smile against her skin.  “Sorry.”

Instead, Yasha drew her head back and she brought a hand between Beau’s legs.  The loose pants Beau wore provided enough resistance that the touch was not teasing, but comforting.  The familiar heat reminded both of them that Beauregard was alive, and her body reacted as any living, breathing, aroused, human body would.

Yasha climbed up her body to kiss Beau’s lips again, then tucked her thumbs under the waistband of her pants and lazily dragged them down her legs.

Beau smiled at her, warm, but a bit sheepish.  Yasha noticed her cheeks flush red with embarrassment.

“No fair,” Beau muttered, letting out a bashful chuckle.  “I’m naked and you’re not.”

Yasha smiled, looking at Beau with reverence, and kissed her again before she could backtrack or claim she was just kidding.  And when Yasha pulled back, she began to strip out of her clothes.  She set her cloak beside the bed, unlaced her top and pulled it off, toed off her shoes and shimmied out of her pants, then settled back on the bed, hovering on top of Beau who laid with her head back on the pillow.

There was a moment where the room stilled.

Yasha and Beauregard had slept together many times, but this was the first time they had done so naked.  Yasha never let things become too… intimate between them.  She had never wanted them to become to intimate.  But tonight, after holding Beau’s lifeless body in her arms, Yasha needed every reassurance that she was real, that she was here.

Yasha held her breath, frozen in time, afraid to break this delicate moment, and afraid for things to return to the way they were before.  But here they were, and they knew it was different.  They knew it was better.  This didn’t just mean one time together, but the promise of a future.  And when Beau leaned forward and kissed her again, Yasha knew that this was the first time she was being honest with herself in a very long time.

Their bodies melded together, and as Yasha used her lips to convey to Beau every bit of adoration she felt, she wondered why she denied herself this familiarity, this comfort, for so long.  Beau’s breath caught in her throat as Yasha kissed her neck, and her bare skin was warm as she moved a leg between Beau’s.  Yasha rolled her hips down into Beau’s with each surge of pleasure that coursed through her body, and she felt slick heat coating her leg where it was pressed between Beau’s thighs.

Yasha’s lips moved from Beau’s neck to her chest, tongue trailing down the valley between her breasts, licking the sweat from her stomach, lower and lower…

Yasha kissed Beau’s thighs, tracing old scars from various sword slashes and arrow piercings.  Her tongue darted out, tasting the source of Beau’s wet heat, lazily lapping up to her clit and rubbing it slowly with her tongue.  Beau cried out.

Yasha licked once more, then moved up to Beau’s face, kissing the cry from her lips.  She brought a hand between Beau’s legs and trailed her fingers through the wet folds.  Beau’s arms wrapped around Yasha’s shoulders, clutching tightly, gasping into her ear.  Yasha nuzzled into her neck.

“Please don’t leave me again,” Yasha muttered.

Beau pulled back, just enough to look into Yasha’s eyes again.  The bruises had begun to spot around her face, and the dried blood had been hastily wiped away.  Her pupils were blown, blue eyes dark and hazy, hair rumpled.  Yasha had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

“Hey,” Beau nudged Yasha’s nose with her own.  “I’m right here.”  Beau kissed her, reassuring Yasha once again of her life.

Fear assuaged, Yasha slowly pushed her finger inside Beau, just up to the first knuckle.  Testing the waters.  Enough to penetrate, and barely enough to satisfy, at least until Beau wanted more.

And, oh, she wanted more.  As Yasha worked her up, she slowly entered her further and further, testing the limits of what Beau wanted, of what she could take.  Yasha added another finger and Beau thrust into her hand, squirming in pleasure.

Their pace was not fast, necessarily.  It was slow compared to their past trysts.  Yasha wanted to savor every moment inside Beau.  Every twitch, every moan, every muscle that tensed around her fingers, keeping her inside, as if she was put into this world for the sole purpose of pleasuring Beau.

Yasha’s thumb rubbed gentle circles over her clit, and Beau let out a gruff grunt, clawing at her back with sharp nails.  That felt like it would leave a mark tomorrow.

Yasha didn’t really care.

Beau was like putty in her hands, and Yasha could see herself shaping an entirely new life with this woman.

Beau’s orgasm was slow, and Yasha drew it out as long as possible as she continued to fuck her gently, even as every muscle contracted around her hand, attempting to hold it in place.

When she finished, Beau collapsed on the bed, eyes closed, breathing heavy, arm draped over her face.  Yasha pulled the blankets over them and wrapped Beauregard in her arms, holding her close against her bare skin.

Beau began to kiss her neck and her hand trailed down Yasha’s stomach, but Yasha gently stopped her hand and pulled back.  “What are you doing?”

Beau frowned.  “Returning the favor—” she stopped as a yawn interrupted her mid-sentence.

Yasha smiled fondly at Beau and kissed her temple.  “You’re tired,” she whispered.  “You should rest.”

“But don’t you want—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Yasha said.  “I’m okay for now.  You, though.  You are exhausted.”

“Am not,” Beau protested, as her eyes drifted closed.

“ _Sleep now, my love_.”  Yasha couldn’t stop the words in Celestial from leaving her lips.  She knew Beau couldn’t understand, but she said them anyway.

“What’s that mean?” Beau mumbled, already half asleep, face buried in a pillow.

“Go to sleep,” Yasha chuckled.

After a minute, when Yasha was sure Beau had fallen asleep, the woman in her arms spoke up again.  “You’re not going to leave tonight?” Beau asked.  She sounded exhausted, but the fear was apparent.

“I’ll stay,” Yasha said.  “I promise.”

This time, she meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please comment, like, follow me (elliesgaymachete) on tumblr, etc. I love you.


End file.
